


Raise, Grow & Repair

by caixa



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU – modern setting, AU – not hockey players, Anal Sex, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Implied Domestic Violence, M/M, Mild Angst, Oral Sex, Pining, Rated E for chapter 2, Remix, Secrets, Toronto Maple Leafs, chapter 1 is G, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: Every kid deserves a chance.Mo and Jake run Fresh Starts, a garage with a mission: to give the youth in Toronto a chance to learn and utilize their skills with motors and metal in order to build up their self-esteem and give them an opportunity to be recognized as valuable members of the society, no matter what background they come from.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vidriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Raising and Growing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248911) by [Vidriana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/pseuds/Vidriana). 



> A great big thank you to Vidriana for the wonderful story I had the privilege to remix.
> 
> The fic is in two chapters because I wanted to respect the plot of the original story and keep that part safe for readers who wish to avoid explicit sex scenes. So there is one in a separate chapter (or, more accurately, it IS the separate chapter) because the hard-working, caring daddies deserve some steamy adult fun.

**I**

 

**Mitch on Auston**

I never expected someone so cool to come into my life like a heatwave

 

**William**

the pillows in my bed are not thick enough  
I pile and pile them on my head

the door is closed

I am pressing the teddy to my chest so hard  
so hard that I should only hear my own heartbeat  
and the blood in my veins in my eardrums

but I hear every word

like ice like fire like knives  
they drop  
fly through the air  
deadly arrows, poisoned  
bullets

(don’t let them be real bullets don’t let them be real)

mommy daddy please  
once you have children  
your fights are never just between the two of you

 

 

* * *

 

 

**II**

 

“Ow!” Mitch exclaims loudly, flinching back and making Jake look up from the chain of the chopper engine he’s working on. Mitch waves his hand around in the air, before sticking his burned finger into his mouth. “Fuck, that hurt,” he says, the words muffled, and Willy laughs at him.

Auston looks slightly guilty when he picks up the metal pipe from the floor with tongs but Willy just gives him a playful shove on his free arm.

“Come on, don’t look like that! He asked for it,” Willy says, rolling his eyes, but the expression on Auston’s face is still uneasy. He puts the pipe back on the forge where he was working on it before handing it to his always too curious friend.

 _Shit_ , Auston thinks. He should keep away from the kind of stuff that got him in trouble in Arizona.

“Sorry, Marns,” he says, sounding apologetic, but Mitch just shrugs.

“Nah, Willy’s right, I asked for it,” he says.

Willy’s face goes pale and aghast, like he had just realized he was caught doing something bad.

“I – I didn’t mean it like that,” Willy says, looking alarmed. “I only said – never mind.” He smiles at Mitch but Jake thinks it looks kind of forced.

“Just forget about that, okay? I was rambling,” Willy says nervously and turns away from them, walking back to the chopper body with the wrench he was fetching.

The look on Mitch’s face is a bit dumbstruck and he sends a questioning glance at Auston who is focused on looking at the pipe taking a red glow on the forge.

Next to Jake, Mo exhales audibly, making Jake turn towards him. “Everything okay?” he asks and Mo nods, even though his face looks tight, his brows drawn together uncharacteristically. “You sure?” Jake insists, as Mo gives him a tight smile in response.

“Yeah, just – you know,” he gestures over to Mitch and Auston who still look puzzled at Willy’s behavior. “I’m just worried that’s gonna be a problem.”

Jake almost drops the chain on surprise.

“You, uh, you think Auston is gonna be a problem?” he clarifies, just to be sure and Mo gives him a confused look.

“What? No. I just –“ he breaks off. If Jake wasn’t so busy being relieved that Mo doesn’t think the past of kids like Auston is too much for them to handle, he would be wondering why Mo is starting to turn red. “I just wish they wouldn’t push Willy like that.”

“Nah, it’s gonna be fine,” Jake says, elbowing Mo in the side lightly to make him look over. “But I can help you keep an eye on the kids anyway, if you want,” he offers, just to make Mo smile, a small but genuine expression that makes Jake’s heart hurt a little.

“Thanks, Jake,” he says sincerely and then he gets up and walks away, saving Jake from having to come up with a response.

 

* * *

 

Some days Jake can’t believe his luck, earning money for doing what he would otherwise work to have money for. But the city of Toronto has seen it fit to run a garage and a metal shop as a form of social work.

Jake and Mo have divided the responsibilities between them in a functioning way, working together like parts in a well-oiled engine. Mo is in charge of the kids and does most of the paperwork with the social services, Jake’s main responsibility is the shop.

Most days they come to work together, out of a habit, out of shared history of sharing an apartment. Jake’s new home is a bit further away, so he usually picks up Mo on his way to work. Carpooling is a comfortable way to get the day started, to share thoughts of the upcoming day before the kids arrive, before the garage is full of sounds, metallic bangs, clanks and screeches, rattle of sparks from the welding equipment, loud huffs of the air compressor.

Mo is usually already out on the pavement when Jake comes to pick him up but now that Jake doesn’t see him, he takes the softening cardboard tray with two steaming takeout coffees and heads inside the apartment building. He knocks without an answer, rings the doorbell, still nothing.

He hears steps from upstairs and sees Mo hurry down the stairs, frowning a little as he sees Jake. The expression makes Jake a little baffled.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mo mumbles and goes past Jake to open is door. Jake sees dirt under Mo’s fingernails as Mo turns the key in the lock. It’s not an uncommon sight, considering the amount of oily and greasy auto parts that pass through his hands daily, but in the mornings they are usually clean.

 

Inside, Jake coaxes the cardboard cup out of the tray and holds it towards Mo.

“Oh, thanks,” Mo says, but instead of taking the cup he nods towards his bathroom. “I’ll just...” and Jake hears sounds of water, apparently from Mo washing his hands.

Jake lets his eyes glance around the apartment. It’s a sunny morning, light pours in through the kitchen window; it’s clear enough to see bees buzzing outside, around a flower box on the windowsill.

That’s a new addition, and Jake feels a sudden, frail melancholy breeze through his being. It’s so long since he lived there, he has no idea what else has changed.

He always liked this apartment but realizes that in the end they both needed space. He misses living with Mo but he gets it. It’s some heavy shit they’re dealing with at work, and if they came home together, it would be so difficult to drop the worry on the doorstep. Somehow it might feel in a wrong way like parenting.

That’s too much on top of being roommates and coworkers, and whatever else they were, he convinces himself.

Some days it’s easier to believe than others.

 

* * *

 

“Watch your step, you fucking idiot!” Brownie shouts at Mitch who bumps backwards into him so that the bolts that Brownie gingerly cradles in his hand get scattered all over the floor, clinking on the coated concrete.

Willy lets out a little involuntary yelp and flinches.

“Sorry,” Mitch says exaggeratedly but puts down the two tennis balls he has been juggling when the bump happened and helps gather the bolts. He digs the last one from under a tool cart and places it on Brownie’s palm.

“Why is he so goddam jumpy all the time?” Brownie mutters to Mitch in a low voice, casting a sidelong look at Willy.

Mitch glances quickly at the blond boy. Willy still has an anxious expression on his soft face and is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, seemingly concentrated on cleansing the thread of a monkey wrench with a rag, eyes wandering at the two of them and quickly turning to the tool in his hands again.

“You shouldn’t judge. And is it really your business to ask, anyway?” Mitch says to Brownie. “Everyone who is here has been through some shit, right? If there hadn’t been shit, they wouldn’t be here. No child is born a psychopath, or scared of the world.”

“You’re right,” Mo says from behind their backs. Mitch and Brownie twitch startled and turn apologetically towards him. “No gossip at work, remember?” Mo says, giving each boy in their turn a stern look.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Brownie says. “Sure,” Mitch accompanies him.

Mo nods at them. “Now, Mitch, go help Matts with the exhaust pipe. It needs to be finished today. If I have to stay overtime because of your laziness I’m not sure how I’m gonna get home. Jake might not want to wait around to give me a ride.”

He looks at Jake and his face softens to a smile that makes warmth rush through Jake’s body. “Nah,” Mo concludes with a smile, “He’d never leave me stranded.”

“Sure thing, buddy. I’ve got your back,” Jake says as nonchalantly as he can. Some days he hates the little sparks of hope Mo sends off his way.

“But you –“ Mo points at Mitch and nods towards Auston who is with the welding equipment in the front corner of the place, “You guys still need to get that thing ready today.”

Mo leaves. Brownie looks at Auston and turns his gaze to Mitch’s eyes. “The thing of no kid being born a psychopath… I wouldn’t be totally sure,” he says in a low voice.

 

“I know you were talking about me.”

At first Mitch isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating or if Auston has really spoken. His voice is lowered into an almost whisper and the welding mask both distorts it and hides any movement of his mouth.

“And it fucking sucks,” Auston continues and now Mitch is sure it’s him.

“I-I’m sorry,” Mitch says. “I didn’t mean anything”, he goes on defensively. “And I’m sure he didn’t either,” he adds to extend the defense to Brownie.

Auston starts his welding gun again and Mitch has to turn away. He looks for safety glasses but when he finds them and gets back to Auston, he is already finished with the seam.

“That’s a neat one,” Mitch admires the work. “You always get incredibly smooth lines.”

Auston looks at the cooling metal.

“Fire is good when you make it work for you. I’m constantly learning that,” he says.

Mitch looks at him attentively, uncharacteristically silent, waiting for Auston to say more.

When he doesn’t, he just smiles and nods, and the talk turns to the work at hand.

 

* * *

 

They don’t go out all that often because the budget doesn’t really stretch to that kind of extra costs, but the rest of the workday has gone so smoothly that Jake suggests Mo they should treat the boys to something.

“I’ll pay. That place downstairs our – _your_ house is great. It’s still in business? The one where they have tons of ice cream flavors and you can also get beer,” he says.

Mo agrees. “Sounds good to me. The outside tables get sun this time of the day, if there’s room it’s really nice.”

 

The outside tables are free, and the sun shines warmly but in Toronto it’s seldom too hot, and Jake sees everyone has placed their orders before setting a pitcher of beer on the table in front of Mo. He drops down on his regular spot by Mo’s side – or, what used to be his regular spot when he lived here and they went out more in general.

It’s only then that he notices how tense Mo is.

“No, seriously, don’t you ever think you’d like to know more of the guys before they come here? It should be an open place to talk,” Mitch says.

Auston looks thoughtful. “Maybe we could help each other better if the program wasn’t so strict about everyone’s privacy. We would understand each other better if we knew the reasons behind why everyone acts the way they do.”

“We’re not telling any of you kids you can’t talk with others,” Mo says. “It’s just that it’s not _our_ place to share the information. That’s what this is about. Fresh start means avoiding prejudice, pre-judgment. It’s up to everyone to decide for themselves what they’re comfortable of telling about their past.”

Mitch looks frustrated. “I just think… how healthy is it to have an environment that’s so damn full of _secrets_ all the time? I’ve figured that one thing we should learn is trust and have confidence that we are trusted… doesn’t it clash with that? The lack of openness?”

Auston stirs the chocolate sauce in his ice cream bowl, looking down pensively, and nods slowly at Mitch’s words. Mo sighs, not a bit less uneasy to Jake’s eyes.

“Openness takes a lot of trust,” he says finally.

Mitch spreads his hands expressively. “Isn’t that exactly what I was talking about?” he exclaims.

 

A bee circles around the potted flower in the middle of the table and suddenly takes a suicide dive into the beer pitcher, flaps its wet wings creating the smallest droplets.

“Oh damn! I would have liked another glass of beer. Where do all these bees come from?” Jake asks with an irritated sneer.

Mo hops up from the table and heads inside. He comes back with a long ice cream spoon, sits down and starts fishing the bee out of the pitcher.

“I thought you were going to get a new beer,” Jake complains.

Mo gives him a quick, half uneasy smirk and goes on trying to trap the bee in the spoon. Finally the little creature is on a napkin, wiggling its thread-like wobbly legs and stretching its translucent wings.

“You were really serious about rescuing that thing?” Jake looks at the bee.

“Come on, it’s a good thing there are some of them,” Mo says. “The nature, and that includes we humans, wouldn’t survive without these little buzzers.”

Jake shakes his head amused.

Mo shrugs one shoulder. “They pollinate the third of everything we eat.”

“Okay,” Jake says slowly.

Mo gives the napkin a little shake to see how the bee reacts. It starts slowly crawling and soon takes off to flight, wobbly at first, soon vanishing into the air as a diminishing little dot.

A sudden shower starts drizzling down on them. The kids have finished their ice creams, thank Jake and start collecting themselves to head home.

 

“I really thought you’d tell me more at the shop,” Mitch says to Auston as they are pacing towards their foster home, shoulders up, backs crouched as if it would shelter them from the mild summer rain, “About whatever shit was bothering you.”

“It wasn’t a good place,” Auston says.

“Is this better?”

Auston gives him a considerate look. He takes a deep breath and exhales.

“Okay,” he says. “My mom worked really hard to get me here. I was in the juvenile court, and it was pretty obvious that I’d face jail time, hopefully in a junior institution in Phoenix but it could have been adult too and it would have been _bad_ ” _._ He looks at Mitch pointedly.

“We were so lucky to have a good lawyer and a prosecutor who was ready to consider something… more progressive. But it was really my mom who had found out the info about this place and program and contacted to have a US citizen considered to be here, so,” he shrugs. “If it feels that I’m not getting the fresh start I got here for, that people still talk shit behind my back and judge me, it feels like it’s not just talking shit about me but disrespecting all that hard work my mom did and all the shit she faced for me. Those guys at court, they really questioned her, laughed at her first, you know. But now I’m here. Not just for me, for her. So much for her.”

Mitch nods repeatedly.

“Jail? That sounds heavy. What did you do?”

The drizzle turns to real rain, large wet drops make them flee under the blinds of a closed flower shop.

Auston shakes his wet hair and squirms against the brick wall.

“Lots of different small shit. Fights. Some garbage can fires. One caught on and spread to a car, and there was a surveillance camera, and I was charged with arson. It was the final thing.”

Mitch leans to the wall, hands behind his back, lets it sink in.

“So, fire? It’s your thing?”

Auston wasn’t expecting Mitch to be so forward with it but since he is… Auston smiles at him reassuringly.

“Like they say, Good servant, bad master. I think I’m leaning to master it now,” Auston says.

“You are. You’re damn good, I mean, both the blacksmith stuff and welding, like, how can you be such a pro at both? It’s like you’d done it for ages. When I look at your work it’s unbelievable to think you’re my age.”

Auston almost blushes, he hides a pleased smile to nudging Mitch’s arm with his elbow, hands deep in his pockets. “I guess I’ve found my talent, then.” He bites his bottom lip and looks at Mitch, smile rippling in his brown eyes. “Thanks,” he continues. “And you weren’t bad yourself today. We got that exhaust pipe on that bike pretty good, right? It looks so badass now.”

Mitch agrees. “The owner comes for it tomorrow. Shit, he’s gonna be dumbstruck that some sociopath welfare cases would give him such quality job on it. He surely expected nothing put a cheap price.”

Auston laughs. “If the guy spreads the word around Mo and Jake will have to hike their rates up. Or we’ll drown in work.”

 

Mo looks at the circles the raindrops create on the beer in the pitcher.

“Let’s get the next one inside,” he says to Jake.

Half a pitcher later, in a snug corner table, Mo sighs and leans against Jake’s side, his head dropping on Jakes’s shoulder. He must be more drunk than Jake had originally thought and he tries really hard not to focus too much on the comfortable warmth of Mo’s weight against his side. Mo’s always been an affectionate guy. This probably doesn’t mean anything.

“You know I trust you, right?” Mo says suddenly, so close that Jake can feel his breath on his neck and sounding a lot more sober than Jake had expected. Jake doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to act, because this is awfully similar to a bunch of scenarios he’d dreamed up over the years.

Of course Mo ruins it by saying, “You’re my best friend, you know,” sounding so sincere and Jake feels a bitter sting of disappointment in his stomach. He tries to muster a smile anyway.

“Yeah, buddy, I know,” he says and can’t quite shake the feeling that he’s missing something.

 

* * *

 

Jake is lifting his hand to wave a goodbye to the satisfied client who drives his mended chopper out of the small parking space in front of their garage when hears a commotion inside. A thundering metallic bang echoes from the hard walls, followed by curses and shouts.

Of course, it’s the kids, because it’s always the kids.

A light blue Honda hatchback is slanted on the ground, on two rear wheels and one front wheel, rocker panel dented on the side of the missing wheel, by a jack jammed under it.

“Why the fuck did you let it down like that?” Auston yells at Mitch who looks at the car bewildered.

“Shut the fuck up, Matts! You pushed me!”

“Like fuck I did! I was three feet away! It was Zach!”

“It wasn’t me, fucking morons! Nobody touched him! He fucked with the handle all by himself!” Zach gestures at Mitch.

Jake notices Willy crouched by the wall, hands on his ears, letting out small whimpers.

“What the hell are you whining there?” Brownie grunts at Willy before Jake can stop him, and Willy bows his head even more, eventually slumping down on the floor.

“Enough!” Jake commands. Mo has come to the garage out of the office and hurries past him to squat to Willy’s side.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding slightly panicked, and Willy lowers his hands to his lap and shakes his head slowly, in small, wary movements.

“I’m fine. Nothing happened. It was just – so loud,” he says in a small voice, probably trying to reassure Mo, but ruining the effect when Mo notices tears in his eyes. Mo just looks even more worried.

“Should I get you something, Willy?” Jake offers but Willy doesn’t seem to listen and Mo just shoots him a quick, nervous glance before turning back to Willy.

“Willy, listen. I’ll get you out of here, okay? You can chill and feel safe, I promise. This is not your place now. C’mon. Could you get up for me, Willy? Please?” he says, gently taking Willy’s arm, helping him up and tugging him out towards the front door. Jake is too bewildered to even process what is going on, so he just follows them.

He’s not even sure what bugs him the most, the fact that Mo apparently has some secret way to comfort Willy he hasn’t told Jake about, or that he’s going to leave him with a bunch of fighting kids and a wrecked car.

“So you’re really getting out at a moment like this, Mo? When there’s a real problem to be solved? Like fuck, that car will need body work. We’ll have to pay for a paint job, have you given any thought to that?” he fumes.

Mo stops and gives him a sour look. He never knew Mo could squint his eyes so gingerly. “Why the fuck do you need me for every single little detail around here?” Mo asks. “I thought we are both in charge, and frankly, equipment is your responsibility. If you can’t deal with this without me holding your hand are you in the right place at all?”

“Can you two please stop?”

Jake and Mo turn to William. He’s shaking, his eyes glisten with tears.

 _Shit_ , Jake thinks, _this is so unprofessional_. Getting so caught up in a heated argument they forget who’s present, who they really should be here for.

His shoulders drop, he sighs and looks apologetically at Willy.

“I’m sorry, Willy,” he says and looks at Mo. “You’re right. Get going. We’ll get that car up and see what needs to be done. It’ll be fine.”

 

Jake lets the rest of the kids out fifteen minutes early and is locking the doors when Mo comes back.

“It’s okay now,” Jake informs. “Our insurance covers the paint work needed, and Mitch and Willy should have no problem getting the rocker panel straightened. If Willy is up to it, of course,” he adds cautiously.

“He will be back at work tomorrow,” Mo reassures. “Sorry I left you hung out to dry.”

Jake shakes his head. “You did what you needed. It was dumb from me to get upset. But, you know… frankly, Mo, you have your life, I have mine, and that’s how it should be, but it’s still sometimes hard when you obviously keep things from me.”

Jake’s mouth feels dry, it’s really uncomfortable to pour out his feelings like this but at this point he doesn’t care. He needs to go on.

“You disappeared somewhere with Willy. It has something to do with whatever you’ve been hiding from me. If it’s personal, okay, but if it concerns work, I’d like to know. We’re partners.” Jake’s tense shoulders drop when he hears himself say the last words. “In the shop,” he hurries to add.

Mo takes a considerate look down on the floor like pondering something and lifts his gaze back to Jake’s eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll show you. You’re finished now, right? Come over. I owe you that much.”

 

* * *

 

They drive with only the radio breaking the silence, but Jake can still tell how nervous Mo is.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he says. “You really don’t have to show me.” Mo lets out a deep breath, but manages a weak smile.

“I know, but I think – I want to,” he says, sounding sincere, and Jake feels his heart flutter a bit.

They don’t say anything afterwards, but the silence is much more comfortable now.

 

To Jake’s surprise Mo walks past his door in his hallway and goes on up the stairs, all the way to the top floor. He doesn’t even stop there: he takes to the ladder-like flight of stairs up from there that Jake never remembers having used.

“Just don’t laugh at me, okay,” Mo warns and starts to climb the steep, unnervingly rattling metal steps in front of Jake and opens the iron hatch to the roof. Jake follows him, not knowing what to expect when he pops his head into the blinding sunlight.

 

The rooftop of the brick and stone high-rise is a…

Garden. Not short of a paradise compared to the inner city surroundings all around it.

Jake steps out on the gravel-covered roofing felt that radiates heat to his feet and slowly turns his head to pan all around himself.

His eyes meet green leaves and colorful flowers. Tomato and bell pepper vines climbing up from pots, rows of lettuce, spinach and herbs in a raised flowerbed, tall stems of blooming sunflowers rising on the background.

He strolls around in cautious steps and meets Mo’s eyes. The expression on Mo’s face shifts between nervous, proud and expectant.

Jake doesn’t know where to start. He starts with “Wow.”

And continues with “Is this where you took Willy?”

Mo nods, nervousness melting little by little.

“Yes. I’ve noticed it helps him. I decided to try it when I read how even a little touch with living nature reduces stress, and it seemed to work, so… yeah, Willy comes here to chill.”

“And this place… is it yours? Or does it belong to the house?”

“Mine. I…” Mo locks his gaze in Jake’s eyes, open and sincere. “Since you moved out, I felt – kind of empty. I didn’t know what to do with my time. Lonely, I guess. It started by coincidence…  My mom bought some of those potted herbs when she was visiting and left them behind, and I decided to test if they’d keep growing if I planted them in bigger pots… and they needed more light than my kitchen gets and I had been coming up here to chill some evenings when I felt I needed air, and I brought them here. Then... I’ve just learned more, read about things, tried out what works.”

Jake glances around once more. “But this is a lot. Does the roof take all this?”

“Oh, sure,” Mo hurries to explain. “I had to verify with the building code, of course, when I expanded from just some pots. If I hadn’t, I never would have started – sorry, I’m getting ahead of things now.” He cuts off, walks further on the roof and gestures for Jake to follow him behind the air vent exhauster.

There are more flowers there, lusciously red long-stem roses in one spot, and others that Jake doesn’t recognize. Mo draws his hand on the roses, and a fragrant scent catches Jake’s nose.

He hears buzzing, a bee leaves one of the roses, and another lands on the one next to it.

“Bee! Don’t let it sting you,” he warns but Mo just answers with a smile.

“They don’t. Not when I don’t _really_ bother them.” He takes a few steps and Jake realizes where most of the buzzing comes from: not from the few bees around the flowers, but a stack or low wooden boxes that looks like a little shed, situated between two flowerbeds. A bee that’s just been circling above the roses flies inside it through a small crease near the top of the stack.

Jake stares at it. “Is it-?” he asks, and Mo nods.

“A beehive. Yes. They make me my own honey and help pollinate my crops.”

Jake is impressed.

“I had no idea. But also, I’m not surprised. This is something so… _you_. To nurture things, help them grow and work together, produce something bigger for common good.” He can’t help the laugh that slips out of his mouth. “You just always have to take care of something,” he adds and Mo bursts out laughing as well.

 

Once they get some composure back, Jake lets his gaze drift over the roof again.

“Have you even thought what chances this would give to your... to _our_ work? How much it would expand the possibilities? Not all kids are crazy about cars and motors. This… would teach them so many skills.”

Jake touches a blushing tomato on its vine as if to convince himself of its reality. “How it soothes Willy, after all he went through with his parents, no kid ever should have to witness...” he cuts off, now is not the time, they both know enough. “I can see it would be therapeutic for so many others. I can’t believe you were keeping this a secret.”

Mo tilts his head and looks at his little rooftop kingdom with fresh eyes.

“Why not,” he says. “It _is_ relaxing to stick my hands in the dirt every once in a while. And putting on the beekeeper’s gear to gather the honey really teaches you to focus on the moment at hand.”

“Wouldn’t this be something that perfectly fits the name of our program, Fresh Starts? I see no problem expanding,” Jake smiles.

 

It’s comfortable out there but Jake can’t help that the T-shirt he’s had under his oily coverall all day is starting to feel itchy on his back.

“I should probably head home to shower,” he says to Mo. “Thanks for showing me this.”

Mo looks him in the eye, and only now Jake notices how close he stands, and tries to fight the fluttery feeling in his stomach.

“You could,” Mo says. “But you could also come back here. How about a real date? I liked how you look up here. Like you belong. And like I said, I’ve been missing you.”

Mo stands close, very close, and without further thinking, Jake answers him with a kiss. Bees buzz in his ears, the early evening breeze carries the smell of roses, and the kiss goes on, soft and natural, like it had always been like this between them.

“Is that a yes?” Mo asks softly when they break for breath. Jake smiles and nods.

“Fresh starts, isn’t that what this is all about?” he asks.

“Fresh starts”, Mo confirms. “I’ve always liked the sound of it.”

 


	2. Bed of roses

**III**

 

The smell of crushing rose petals is aromatic, perfume-like, almost exotic when it mixes with the musky scent of skin breaking in heated sweat. The petals cling to Jake’s skin when Mo presses him to the mattress, knee digging in between his thighs, the whole weight of his body on him, large hands pinning his wrists down.

Surrendering between Mo’s bear-like strength and the luscious, fragrant bed laid out for him makes Jake feel overpowered, emasculated even, a strange sense of shame burning his cheeks but oh fuck, it turns him on even more.

He’s on his fucking best date ever. It doesn’t matter that Mo’s dinner choice was a quick but heartily filling burger: more time for the actual dessert, they’ve always been no-nonsense that way, no complaints.

But Mo’s bedroom that they entered, already kissing, shoes kicked off on the doorstep, shirts abandoned next, holy shit, it was over the top, more than anything anybody’s ever done for Jake.

Mo must have beheaded the whole row of his bold American Beauties to have the red delicate carpet spread over his sheets.

“Oh fuck, Mo, you… you’re something,” is all Jake could pant into this mouth between kisses but it was enough to make Mo free them both from the rest of their clothes and manhandle him down on the bed.

 

Mo’s mouth is under Jake’s chin, open and wet, sucking and gnawing it hungrily, moving down to his neck. For a moment it adds to the flush on Jake’s cheeks: he doesn’t want to think what he’s going to hear from the boys in the garage tomorrow about the state of his neck after this.

Mo’s thick thigh presses his balls, he feels every strand of the coarse blond hair against their sensitive skin, and shit if it doesn’t add to the aching throb of his erect cock, trapped between their bodies.

And, sweet heaven, Mo is just as hard, his cockhead butting to his lower abs, and if Jake squirms under him just right, he shifts to a position where they rub together and – oh, good, Mo thanks him by sucking his neck even harder, letting out a low growl that vibrates on his skin.

Mo’s mouth detaches, Jake feels a shift of weight on the mattress and opens his eyes. Mo is on his knees bracketing Jake’s thigh, reaches for a small ceramic cup from the nightstand and smiles at him.

“Can I try one thing, Jake? Please? We don’t have to if it’s weird.”

“What is it?”

Mo lowers the cup over Jake chest and the smell hits him before Mo says it. “Honey. I’d love to lick it off you if it’s okay.”

Jake’s eyes widen enthusiastically. Would anyone say no? ”Oh yeah, go ahead!”

Mo moves down the bed, placing himself between Jake’s legs, and cautiously, almost ceremoniously, tilts the cup over Jake’s crotch. Jake holds his breath in anticipation of how the viscose, syrupy substance poured down feels on the most sensitive spots of his body, and it’s… sticky but pleasantly wet at the same time, not cold because Mo has held the cup in his hands.

The layer of honey wraps itself around the head of his cock, trickles down the shaft, makes drops on is lower belly. It gets liquid in the body heat, he senses it seep into the small wrinkles on his balls and wonders how long it will stick in his pubes –

not long, thanks to Mo.

He places the cup on the nightstand with a soft clank and his palms on Jake’s knees, guiding them as far apart as they comfortably spread, and then there’s a tongue up on his inner thigh, lapping and getting closer to the middle, giving suckling kisses to his balls, smooth wide licks up his shaft, circling back down to the base of his cock, finding every drop. Mo’s lips open for the cockhead, he sinks it in his mouth, deeper, and Jake can’t anything but feel, take the pleasure in with all his senses, the thick sweet smells of honey and roses, of Mo’s body, the hands spreading him, the mouth eating him.

He’s almost embarrassed to feel it build up so quick, he hardly lets out a yelp “hey” as a warning before he bursts inside Mo’s mouth but Mo takes so good care of him, doesn’t let him move, the stern hands slide from his knees down to his hips to keep him pinned down. He feels Mo swallow the first pulses around his cock, then let it slide out of his mouth. Jake opens his eyes just in time to witness a few drops landing on Mo’s bottom lip, he licks them away, and the rest comes over Jake’s own stomach.

Mo’s hand is on his ass now, Jake is sated but responds by curling his hips to better press to the fingers.

“Jake, babe,” Mo says softly, voice a bit groggy, “I’d so love to… would you?”

Jake bursts out a breathy chuckle at Mo’s loss of words. “Sure thing, Mo, Christ, I’ve wanted so long… like, please, fuck me.”

And Mo smiles at him.

And of course he has lube and condoms in his drawer, and he gives only a side-eye as a reply to Jake’s softly scolding “You just sucked me, man,” and puts one on. His big warm fingers are so good inside him, and his cock is even better. His core works overtime thrusting his hips to pound Jake really good, and Jake never wants it to stop and probably somehow mumbles it out loud.

Mo comes with hisses and growls, rooted deep inside Jake, and would obviously want to slump on him and die after that but the condom needs to be taken care of. So he rolls to the side, dick softening, smiling blissfully.

“I could get used to this,” Jake blurts out without thinking, and Mo bursts into a soft, half-dazed laugh.

“Oh really?” he asks once he gets his breath back. “Shit, I need to double the space for roses.”

 

 * The end *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I appreciate kudos and comments. Feel free to point out errors or suggest tags or warnings in case I have missed something crucial. 
> 
> And have fun in the playoffs, everyone!


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